


What a Tease

by S_G_M



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dominant John, Fingering, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Oral Sex, recliner sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:22:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_G_M/pseuds/S_G_M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Sherlock teasing him all day, including during work, John has vowed to make him pay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What a Tease

John’s breath caught in his throat, as Sherlock’s hand brushed his arse subtly.

He swore under his breath, as Sherlock glanced back at him, his cupid’s bow mouth forming just the slightest grin.

‘Damn it, Sherlock!’   He thought to himself.

Sherlock had been teasing him in a variety of ways since they’d left to look at the sizeable crime scene that DI Greg Lestrade had requested they peruse.

As Sherlock bent over to closer inspect a small pool of blood, John struggled to avert his eyes.  He tried to think of anything other than the thought of dragging Sherlock to the nearest area that would lend them some privacy, and taking him fast and hard from behind.

DI Lestrade walked over to Sherlock.  “Found anything?”  He inquired in his gruff voice, hands in his pockets.

“Yes, actually.”   Sherlock responded, indicating a sliver of metal glinting from the amount of thickened blood on the ground.

Lestrade took a pair of tweezers, along with a clean press and seal bag from his jacket pocket, and removed the item.

A bullet.  An unfired bullet, that could give them some insight as to the identity of the murderer of one Marcus Downs.

Downs had been in charge of an underground gambling ring, and had been found slaughtered in Leicester Square that morning.  There had been no evidence of a struggle, and the local police force had originally considered it to be a suicide.

However, with the later development of a letter indicating that more deaths would follow Downs’, it had been turned into a murder investigation.

DI Lestrade handed the bagged evidence off to another officer.

Sherlock stood up, glancing about at the scene. 

As DI Dimmock walked past, he scrutinised the man.

Sherlock noted the flop sweat on Dimmock’s upper lip, the slightly nervous glances towards him, the pathetic fidgeting.  There was no doubt that the man was involved in Downs’ murder.

Sherlock took a step closer to Lestrade, obscuring his face from Dimmock.

“Make an excuse to have Dimmock sign something.”  Sherlock told him quietly. 

Lestrade raised his eyebrows.  “What?”  He asked, not making any sort of connection.

“You heard me.”  Sherlock replied.  “Afterwards, subtly hand the paper to me.”

Lestrade shook his head in mild confusion, then obliged a few minutes later.

Sherlock walked away from the scene, unfolding the paper.

The writing fairly matched the script on the threatening letter found in Downs’ flat.

Sherlock folded the paper back up, and wandered back.

 

As Sherlock brought this new development to DI Lestrade’s attention, John sat on a nearby bench, sipping at a cup of coffee and looking on.

Lestrade called two of his officers over, and briefed them on the situation at hand.  They were to accompany Dimmock back to the station, where he would be questioned.  Sherlock was to be allowed access to the room during the interview, and to ask any questions he needed to.

John and Sherlock took a cab to the station, discussing the case. 

Upon reaching the station, Sherlock quickly cupped John’s crotch, squeezing gently, before opening the door and getting out of the cab.  John paid the cabbie, and stepped out of the vehicle.  He was flustered.

He swore that as soon as they got home, Sherlock would get what was coming to him.

Sherlock winked at him, before turning and heading into the station.  John caught up to him, and walked by his side into the building.

It hadn’t taken Sherlock long at all to prove that Dimmock was indeed involved in the murder.  Not only that, but that he had an accomplice, who was also on the police payroll.

Officer Martello, Dimmock’s cohort, had been very much involved in the underground gambling ring, and had encouraged Dimmock to become a part of it.

Which he did, after some coercion from Martello.

It hadn’t taken much to convince Dimmock to join, with the man being rather weak when it came to the possibility of high sums of money being paid to him.

He’d been a dirty cop for some time, and so it didn’t bother him in the least, being involved in something so illegal.

And when Downs threatened to expose them both for the crooked cops that they were, Dimmock panicked. 

Downs had instructed them to meet him at Leicester Square in the wee hours of the morning, at 4:30 am.

When things came to blows, Dimmock brandished his gun.  However, the barrel fell open, and bullets had cascaded through the air, scattering on the ground.

Martello took this opportunity to stab Downs repeatedly, even after the man was dead, as Dimmock went about, gathering the bullets.

And, he’d retrieved all but one.  The single bullet that Sherlock had discovered in the pool of blood.  The bullet that was now being scrutinised for evidence.  The bullet that would confirm that it was indeed Dimmock’s fingerprints that had smudged the metal, pinning him to the murder.

By the end of the questioning, Dimmock had confessed, and Martello had been taken into custody.

 

   As John and Sherlock left the building, John suggested that they walk home.  It was only a mile or so, and it was a lovely day.

Besides, that would give him time to decide on exactly what it was that he would do to Sherlock.  Oh, he had so many ideas, and to narrow them down was not an easy task.

John smiled to himself as they walked along the sidewalk.  He still couldn’t believe that he and Sherlock Holmes were together. 

Seven months had passed since Sherlock had admitted to John how he felt, that he couldn’t continue living with John platonically.

Of course, John couldn’t believe what he’d heard. 

After all, Sherlock had told him in the past that he hadn’t been looking for any kind of relationship.  That he wasn’t interested whatsoever in dating anybody.

John had long given up on the idea, although that didn’t stop him from fantasising about Sherlock when he masturbated.  Over the time that they had lived together, lust had turned into love.  And before long, John couldn’t imagine life without the magnificent ass that Sherlock was.

They walked past Angelo’s on the way home, which made John grin.  Made him remember a number of happy times there.

“John.”  Sherlock said.

“Yeah?”  John asked, glancing up at him.

“… Never mind.”  He replied uncharacteristically.

It wasn’t like Sherlock to seem so unsure about anything.  John frowned.  That couldn’t be a sign of anything good.

“Are you sure?”  John asked, a little concerned.

Sherlock gave him a slight smile.  “Yes, John.  I’m certain.”  He confirmed

 

They walked the rest of the way home in silence, merely content to enjoy one another’s company.

Upon stepping inside 221 B, John quickly closed the door behind them, bolting it.

He stalked over to Sherlock, slipping the fitted jacket off of him.  John unbuttoned the silky purple shirt that always turned him on, stopping halfway to kiss the hollow at the base of Sherlock’s long neck.

The scent of Sherlock was intoxicating, and the heady scent made John’s head spin.  He was growing quite hard by now, and Sherlock’s cock was following suit.

John kneeled down, unbuttoning Sherlock’s trousers.  John gripped the zipper pull in his teeth, and undid the trousers the rest of the way.  He slipped them down around his lover’s ankles, and Sherlock stepped out of them.

John palmed Sherlock’s erection through the silky black g string that he wore, evoking a soft sigh.

“These are new.”  John mentioned. 

Sherlock shrugged.  “I thought that I’d try something new for a change.”  He replied, before John began to kiss and nibble along his inner thigh, leading up to the substantial bulge.

As John slipped the underwear down, allowing Sherlock’s manhood to spring forth, he nodded.

“I like them.”  John said, before popping the head of Sherlock’s 7 ¾ uncut cock into his mouth, tonguing along the slit, tasting the pre-cum that had begun to leak generously.

Sherlock groaned, as John’s skillful tongue swirled in random patterns that sent delicious sensations running through him. 

John took more of Sherlock into his mouth, before ever so slowly pulling back.  He repeated this a number of times, taking Sherlock into his mouth and throat a little deeper each time.

Sherlock fumbled for something to hold onto, and closed his eyes.  He could swear that John got better at this each time.  “Uh… Oh!  Yes, that’s good… Mmm…”  Sherlock muttered, as John began to massage his bollocks teasingly.

But then, John stopped, and Sherlock opened his eyes.

John led him to the behind the couch, having him bend over it.  Sherlock spread his legs apart, giving John full access to the pink ring of muscle within.

John kneeled, and began lapping at Sherlock’s pretty arsehole lightly, before grabbing a bottle of lube from the drawer of the small table beside the couch, and applying some to Sherlock’s entrance after warming it.

He slipped a finger in, brushing lightly against Sherlock’s prostate.  John nipped at Sherlock’s perfect derriere, causing Sherlock to shiver in delight.  John swooped in for another bite of that delicious arse.

He added another finger easily.  Sherlock was ready for him.

However, as John turned Sherlock around, things continued on a little differently than he’d planned.

Certainly, Sherlock enjoyed teasing John and being the dominant one in public, and for the majority of time.

However, when it came to sex, Sherlock was more submissive than one might imagine.

John relished being the dominant one in the bedroom, ordering Sherlock to do this or that, and taking the lead.  And Sherlock enjoyed it thoroughly.  Often, John would wear his old fatigues from his army days, and would keep his dog tags on.  His uniform tended to really bring out the sexual animal in Sherlock.

John had planned on having Sherlock lie on the floor, and taking him on the spot.

Sherlock, however, had something different in mind.

He began stripping John, who hadn’t so much as removed his shirt.  He became so impatient with the button on John’s trousers, and in the end it popped clean off, causing John to burst out laughing.

Once John was as naked as he was, Sherlock sat him on the recliner.  He knelt down before John, and began licking his bollocks, gently sucking at them in turn. 

As Sherlock ran his tongue up John’s  5 ½ length, he wrapped a hand around his cock, teasing himself as he watched John’s face.

He slipped John’s cock into his mouth, and he began to greedily suck at him until John began to whimper in pleasure.

Sherlock knew that John wouldn’t last much longer if he kept going.

He stopped, and sat on John’s lap, pulling the lever so that the recliner leaned back and the footstool sprang out.

Sherlock kissed John passionately.  He loved John so much, wanted to show John just how much he loved him in so many ways.  He needed John to know just how badly Sherlock craved him, mind, body and soul.

“John…”  He began, as he had earlier that day.

John gazed at him adoringly.  “What, love?”  He asked softly.

Sherlock tried to get the words that he’d been trying to say for the past two days out of his mouth, but once more, he just couldn’t.

Sherlock kissed John’s neck, attempting to sway his attention.

“What is it, Sherlock?”  He asked once more.

Sherlock paused what he was doing to look deeply into John’s caring eyes.

“John… I…”  He began, choking on the words.

John nodded encouragingly.

Sherlock took a breath and closed his eyes, gathering himself.

“John, will you do me the honor of being my husband?”  Sherlock asked.  “Will you marry me?” 

He closed his eyes once more, as though he were afraid of the answer.

John smiled, and knew instantly what his answer would be. 

He reached out, and stroked Sherlock’s cheek.  Sherlock opened his eyes, looking at his lover hopefully.

“Yes.”  John answered, his voice thick with emotion.  He would have been satisfied to keep things as they were, and had never imagined Sherlock going so far as to ask such a wonderful thing.

Then again, he’d never expected Sherlock to have confessed his love for him, either.

Sherlock hadn’t been breathing for the past 30 seconds, and upon hearing John’s answer, began to breathe once more.

He leaned in, kissing John more passionately than he ever had.  John put his arms around the man that he loved, and who loved him in return, bringing him closer.

“Oh, John…”  He began, but then realised that he had no words to say. 

John understood, and just nodded.

They kissed again, and Sherlock reached down, stroking John’s cock a few times before guiding him inside.

He gently sucked at John’s bottom lip, as he felt himself being filled with John’s thickness.

“Ohhhh…”  John moaned lowly, almost a soft growl that Sherlock felt in his loins.

“Fuck, Sherlock, I love you so damn much.”  John told him, in that same sexy growl.

Sherlock released John’s lip as he began to move his hips.  “And I love you, my John.”  Sherlock moaned, as John brushed his prostate.

Sherlock began to gyrate his hips in a swift rhythm,  causing them both to swear and to sweat profusely.

Soon, both of their bodies shimmered with perspiration, as they each neared the brink.

John leaned forward and took one of Sherlock’s nipples into his mouth, as he gripped Sherlock’s cock, evoking a hiss of pleasure from him.

John could feel his bollocks begin to tighten, to feel himself begin to rapidly reach the edge of the orgasm that Sherlock was coaxing from him. 

He could hear Sherlock’s soft groans, knew that particular telltale wrinkling of his nose that signified that he was about to orgasm.

“Uh… Uhm… Oh, OH, OHHHHHHH YES, SHERLOCK!”  John grunted into Sherlock’s shoulder as he was begin ridden harder than ever before.  “Oh, fuck, YES!”  John yelped as he came forcefully.

Simultaneously, Sherlock closed his eyes, and moaned as the storm of pleasure tore through him, explosions of intense sexual gratification washed over him.

John and Sherlock held one another, as they shivered with pleasure.

When it was over, Sherlock just sat there in John’s lap, relishing the feeling of being held by his fiancé.

 Yes, _fiancé_.  He was happier than he could ever remember being.

John’s fingers found their way into his soft curls, as he drifted into sleep.

As John held Sherlock close, he drank in the scent of sex and of Sherlock.

He was sated and tired.  It wasn’t long before he, too, fell into slumber.

 

   He awoke to the sensation of Sherlock kissing his neck a few hours later.  “Mmm…”  John moaned as he slowly awakened.  Sherlock moved down to his chest, and before Sherlock could continue on, John stopped him.

“Wait.”  He said, holding up a finger.  “Just hold on a few minutes.”

John got up, and left the room.  He went into the washroom, and started a bath in the large tub.

He poured some bubble bath under the running water, and lit a few candles.  Just for good measure, he put some romantic music on the small music player that they kept in the bathroom, and turned the volume down low.

Once the bath was run, he stepped into the tub, sinking down into the warm water, below the thick layer of white bubbles.

“Sherlock!”  He called out as seductively as he could.

Sherlock had a pretty clear idea of what John had in mind, having heard the water running and knowing John as well as he did.

He opened the door, and smiled down at John.  He looked so completely adorable sitting there in all of those bubbles with that sweet look on his face.

“You’re staring.”  John said, as Sherlock made his way over.

“Of course I’m staring.”  Sherlock retorted before sitting down at the other end of the tub.

John bit his lip, and slid over to Sherlock, turning around in the process.

He leaned against Sherlock’s front, and sighed happily.

Sherlock held him close, enjoying having him so near.

He licked John’s earlobe, before taking it into his mouth, suckling at it. 

John arched his back, pressing his body more firmly against Sherlock’s.  He could feel Sherlock’s erection against his back.

They kissed slowly, gently, tasting one another’s mouths thoroughly.

John broke away, grabbing a bar of soap and lathering it in his hands.  He soaped up Sherlock’s chest, cleansing his flawless alabaster skin.  He continued along, until every inch of Sherlock had been cleansed with the soap.

Sherlock returned the favour, much to John’s delight.

After they were both washed, John pulled the plug, and they made their way to the bedroom.

John shoved him down on the bed, kissing Sherlock a little roughly.  If it had been possible, Sherlock would have grown harder at the force that John was using.

John had him lying flat on the bed, as John straddled his hips.  He peppered Sherlock’s lean body with kisses, before climbing off of him and having him flip over, his hind quarters proudly in the air.

He entered Sherlock, thrusting slowly at first.  But, he couldn’t stand that slow pace for very long, and soon he was thrusting into Sherlock with a good deal of force.  The bed frame bumped against the wall noisily, as John humped Sherlock mercilessly, pumping in and out of him.

Sherlock was moaning loudly.  John wanted to make him scream, to make him call out at top volume.  As much as John had tried in the past, he’d never been able to make Sherlock come loudly.

Sherlock, even in the throes of a strong orgasm, remained fairly composed.  He was rather quiet during the intimate moments that he and John shared, which stressed John.  Perhaps he wasn’t giving Sherlock as much pleasure as he could be.

“Come on, Sherlock, let me hear how much you’re enjoying this.”  John encouraged needily.

“Let me hear how much you enjoy me fucking you like this.”  He growled, as Sherlock’s brows knit together and he bit his lip with the sensations going through him.

He panted heavily, as John’s cock slid in and out of him.

Sherlock was always embarrassed whenever he made such undignified sounds during intercourse.  Yet, John very much wanted to hear them.  Perhaps just once he would allow himself to let go completely.

“Ohhhhhhhhh, oh!”  Sherlock groaned out lowly, as John focused hitting Sherlock’s prostate with clean, even strokes.

“Ah, yes, John.”  He encouraged, panting even more as he neared orgasm.

John grinned.  “You like that, Sherlock?”  He asked.  “You like how I feel inside you?” 

Sherlock nodded.  “Yes, John.”

“You like it when I fuck you hard, don’t you, you dirty detective?”  John continued.

“Ohh, John, ah!”  Sherlock managed.

“Don’t you?!”  John repeated, fucking him even harder, making Sherlock moan.

“Y-Yes, John!”  He cried, feeling his bollocks tighten.

Sherlock came forcefully, calling John’s name repeatedly, shuddering almost violently as his orgasm raged through him stronger than he’d ever experienced as John kissed him.

Once it was over, John withdrew himself, wanking himself to completion, cumming all over Sherlock’s firm torso. 

John lay down beside Sherlock, out of breath.

After a while, they decided to go clean themselves up with another bath, changing the sheets beforehand.

Afterwards, they spoke to one another about what the future held for them, wedding plans and the like, before falling into a very  deep sleep as they held each other close.


End file.
